Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
Three months later, his mother had done as his father asked. She had dealt with it by killing herself, and now it was the past poised to happen all over again, with her son behind bars, and Penelope, the bride promised to him—-
FUCK.
Why couldn't she just fucking leave him alone like his father had left his mother? Why did she have to convince herself that things could still work out between them? Why, dammit—-why was she making it so hard for him to forget her, even though he knew they were just fucking doomed like his own parents?
Sooner or later, Penelope would start to tire and get bored of being with a man who had nowhere to go—-and no fucking way would Cesare wait for that to happen.
He had it right the first time, dammit.
Emotions destroyed marriages, and that was why, when his grandmother was suddenly cleared to visit him on the fifth day of his confinement—-
"I've been able to cut a deal." And it was one that could cost her soul and his. "We break the betrothal agreement with the Sorrentos," Potenziana said tightly, "and you get out free."
"But you want me to say no...don't you?"
"I want her for you, but I will never choose anyone else over my own flesh and blood. So this has to be your choice. Do we take the deal?"
"Yes."
Chapter Thirteen
Penelope
IS IT TODAY, GOD?
My life has been trapped in some kind of limbo since Cesare was arrested for my grandmother's death, and with everything in this world no longer making any sense—-
I've found myself simply going through the motions of living: breathing, eating, and sleeping, while those words play endlessly in the back of my mind.
Is it today, God?
It's an umbrella question that covers all the other questions that have been plaguing both my mind and heart like a disease.
Is it today, God?
Because one other thing I learned from my life hitting rock-bottom again and again?
He always has a plan, and He never reveals it too early or too early. There's always a plan, and you find out all about it in the right time.
IS IT TODAY, GOD?
I'm standing at the center of the chapel, Pilar's casket behind me, and relatives on each side. People have been coming up to us for over an hour to offer their condolences and introduce themselves...together with the sons they're hoping would be my groom.
Everyone is acting like I'm already free to marry someone else, now that the man Pilar herself had chosen to be my groom ends up a suspect in her own murder.
I continue to play my role as Pilar's memorial service begins, and I take my place on the front pew with people I should see as my family.
But I don't.
My parents were my family, but they're dead.
The Marchettis are my family, but I'm the one who's been avoiding their calls...because they remind me of the one that matters the most.
And of course that person is him.
He's my home. My owner. My everything.
But Cesare is acting like he no longer knows me.
THROWING UP HAS BEEN my favorite hobby lately. And honestly, it's also the only thing that's made me feel alive, ever since I woke up to a world where Cesare and I are suddenly leading separate lives.
I threw up when Massimo told me about Cesare's arrest. Threw up when I accidentally saw photos of Pilar's corpse. I threw up before writing my first and only letter to Cesare, and I threw up yet again when Massimo grimly says he can no longer help me write another letter to his brother.
I threw up when I saw Cesare on the 6:00 news, threw up before attending Pilar's service, and I threw up again afterwards, with my mind strangely taking delight in torturing me with nightmares where my grandmother has been buried alive by mistake, and she's screaming that it's all my fault, for loving the man who killed her.
I KNOW IT'S NOT TODAY, God.
But it no longer feels right to continue living in Cesare's apartment and sleeping in his bed and eating food bought by his money—-when the owner of all these things seem hell-bent on getting rid of me.
The son of Pilar's attorney, who's also a lawyer himself, has arranged for funds to be deposited to my account. I've also supposedly inherited a couple of properties, but for now I think I just need a place of my own, and one that's completely free of any memories.
I know it's not today, God.
But I'm terrified that I'll start to forget what really matters, and I think that's what will inevitably happen, if I spend another night in his home. Everywhere I look, I remember him. I remember us. I remember how we used to be, and it hurts. It hurts to remember all those things...and not have an idea if I can ever have any of it back.